


Gloom & Gloam

by ShunRenDan



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Angst and Porn, F/F, F/M, Femdom, Gentle femdom, M/M, Multi, Porn Without Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-25 17:28:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20915855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShunRenDan/pseuds/ShunRenDan
Summary: “It’s okay,” Naminé whispered, a little breathless. “Go ahead, Roxas.”He groaned in reply, fingers tightening around the hand he could still feel.“Go ahead,” she managed, her voice lost against his skin. “Let it out.”





	Gloom & Gloam

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure what this is.
> 
> If you like it, check out my other smut.
> 
> There's certainly a multitude of it.

The early dusk was burnt a dim, powdered gold outside of the window, where bruised skies presided over a brick and mortar eyeline that stretched into the horizon like a patient on a table. Roxas stared out at it instead of meeting Naminé’s gaze, his t-shirt hanging loosely off of his shoulders and his hair still a mess from a day spent in bed. He wasn’t even out of his boxers. The blonde girl across from him looked prim and proper by comparison, her shoulders barely decorated by the straps of a white dress that he knew all too well.

Isa hung in the doorway like a surly wolf, his green-gold eyes gloam against the dark tan of Roxas’s skin.

Even when he was purely his own, he looked so much like Sora that it hurt to see it in the mirror. His hair was a perpetual mess of gold-brown and blond, both eyes sea-blue. He was a little leaner, his body lithe in comparison to the broad, hero-like boy that no longer was. His face was still round despite the sunset of his youth, granting him a stark contrast to the beast-like man that loomed in the threshold.

Isa wasn’t quite six feet tall, but he looked it. His face was sharp and well drawn, both eyes sharper than any dagger Roxas knew. Beneath the fabric of his casual clothes was a body honed by years of fighting, years of torture, and years of horrors unknown to Roxas. They both bore scars across their skin like flags, but Isa’s were far more numerous, earned less glamorously.

Naminé was untouched by comparison, her skin free of any imperfections. Her expression, however, was severe.

“Roxas, I need you to look at me,” she declared, her fingers still knit together over the table.

He deigned to obey, both eyes falling on her face with a mixture of disdain and impatience. He didn’t like being ordered to the dinner table by two out of his four housemates, especially when the other two were gone for the day. Xion was out buying groceries. Lea was god-knew-where, off surfing the stars for some kind of adventure that he was going to grumble about having the minute he got back.

The fingers of Roxas’s left hand clung to his cheek, while the pads of his right drummed upon the table’s edge.

“This situation needs to come to an end,” Naminé insisted. “It’s disrespectful. To everyone involved.”

She sounded so prim and proper while talking about how loud sex was ruining their household. Roxas snorted.

“You’re the one that started it,” he shot back.

“That doesn’t matter.”

“None of this matters. Wear some earmuffs.”

Naminé frowned, but didn’t reply with the same venom that Roxas issued her. Instead, she inhaled, exhaled, and then shifted in her seat. “We can handle this issue like adults.”

“And what, talk about our feelings?”

“If you’d like to,” she said, softly.

He wasn’t sure if that was what she wanted. Roxas wasn’t blind. He knew that she held some feeling for him, deep in her heart. He felt it through her skin some nights, before she and Isa began their… whatever it was that they now had. He remembered hearing it on her breath, between strikes of lightning and in the dark of the night where everything in the world was blurred black.

What he knew was simple — he heard her feelings in the way she called his name, her heart split by throes of a shared passion. What he didn’t know was how he felt in return. He wanted her when she was gone, but couldn’t find the power to care when she was there. He needed her when she wasn’t his, and when he had her, he could only find the will to throw her away.

“I don’t have any feelings,” he lied, favoring simplicity over the truth.

“Roxas,” she said, slowly rising out of her seat. Lithe fingers traced over the borders of the table as she stepped toward him, one hand curled out in front of her as if she were afraid to reach out and close the last of the gap. They danced forward, hesitated over the cliffs of his slim shoulders, and then closed into an awkward fist in front of him. “I don’t think that’s true.”

“I don’t care what you think,” he asserted, defiant. “I don’t know why we’re having this conversation at all. It’s pointless. I’m not going to suddenly be okay with everything just because you wanted to have a little talk with me.”

And yet he could smell her in the air.

Clean linen and a hint of lavender: plain, but comforting.

Roxas inhaled and glanced up at her, his eyes lidded over in what he hoped resembled boredom. He hadn’t been so combative in a long time, and he couldn’t think of a time he’d ever been so bitter with her.

“Isa isn’t that bad,” she insisted, fingers dancing around the edge of his shoulder. Roxas shivered at the feeling of her touch through the fabric of his shirt, his mind calling to bear the moans and the groans of the night prior. Her index and middle played toward the curl of his bicep, then fell away. “Once you get to know him.”

He didn’t know when she drew closer to him, or how he failed to notice. He only noticed when she wrapped him up in her arms from the side, both hands now resting across the rounds of his shoulders and her lips buried in his hair.

“I’d appreciate it if you made an effort,” she whispered.

Roxas swallowed back the growing ball of saliva in his throat, his face buried in her modest chest. He could feel her breathing though her dress as his hands awkwardly came up to find her hips. Part of him wanted to shove her away, part of him wanted to pull her closer, to roar that she’d be his instead of Isa’s.

“It would mean so much to me,” she explained, lips pressing little treasures into the blond. “If you’d try.”

Gently, her hands shifted to cup his face, and then her lips fell to his forehead. She placed one, warm kiss there that sent a shiver of feeling through his entire being. Roxas pulled back just slightly, his face a mixture of emotions that he couldn’t quantify. Disgust, confusion, concern for her, concern for himself, and a strange sense of nostalgia twisted into a cocktail that he couldn’t ascribe words to.

Her lips trailed down his face as she pulled away, her forehead coming to rest against his. He saw her through a curtain of blonde, curls wrapped around the rosy flags of her cheeks and the sea-blue eyes that haunted his dreams on the nights where he slept alone. In that moment, he knew her a shepherd.

“Will you try for me?”

Roxas opened his mouth to reply, but her lips found his and all dreams of dissent vanished. She took his top lip with hers, closed their mouths together, and then pulled away with a soft, gentle pop that froze the breath in his lungs. His jaw hung somewhere near the floor until the moment her thumb traced the corner of his mouth and came to rest on his bottom lip, anchoring him back to the moment.

“Naminé, I—”

“Ssh,” she whispered, pressing her lips to his again.

Isa reaffirmed his presence by bringing a hand down on Roxas’s shoulder — when he got behind him, Roxas didn’t know. Roxas pulled away and looked up, but Naminé’s lips found his neck, and the younger man leaned back into his former “coworker” like a dog into a bed. He shook his head and turned his neck until his cheek was pressed up against Isa’s solid belly through his shirt, purely by coincidence.

Naminé’s hands were roaming all over him. Every warm breath against his neck was a reminder of her presence that seemed to wash away Isa’s, that led him to forget the warm feeling of the wolf that stood there for him.

He was so confused.

“Naminé,” he breathed again, relishing the way her hands surfed beneath the fabric of his shirt and wiped away the dread.

“Enjoy yourself,” she replied, fingers playing at his stomach.

Roxas stood without warning, backed into Isa, and froze. Naminé pursued him for all of the one step he took, her eyes locked onto his face as Isa’s hands came down on his hips. Warm breath landed at the curve of his neck and Roxas shivered, confused by the way Isa’s lips grazed against his ear and the stir it woke in him. He frowned until Naminé’s hands took his, when that expression deepened, and then found all expression wiped away when her fingers abandoned his to find his hair.

She kissed him like he’d never been kissed before. It was passionate and fierce and so much more firm than he ever would have expected from her. Isa’s lips fell to his neck in turn, soliciting a moan that he never expected to let free. Roxas’s left hand curled into a fist instead of finding Naminé’s hip, while his right hovered somewhere in the air to his side.

He wasn’t sure what to do, how to react.

Naminé’s fingers fell to the hem of his shirt and she helped Isa pull it off without a word, as if what they were doing was somehow normal. Roxas opened his mouth to object, but she merely kissed him again, guiding him down so that he sat down on the edge of the table.

It was as her lips fell to the bare of his chest that he realized he didn’t care where she led him anymore. He let out a needy breath as she pushed him down by the back and climbed over his hips, her mouth suckling at his chest and neck as if it might yield gold. His hands wrapped themselves up in her hair and pulled her down closer to him until he noticed Isa at the side of the table, standing beside the two of them with both hands down on the ledge.

And then Naminé sank lower, her lips playing over his stomach and sending a fire through him that he couldn’t put out. He forced her head further down to the hem of his boxers, where a familiar stiffness waited to be sated.

Naminé broke the silence after lingering for what felt like far too long.

“Are you going to play nice?”

Somehow, she sounded both motherly and condescending. Roxas didn’t know what to say in reply, and when Isa’s hand came down on his throat he knew that it was a rhetorical question.

“Play nice,” the older man commanded.

He sounded so stern, so demanding.

Naminé pulled Roxas’s boxers down and Isa unzipped his fly. At once, two things became apparent. One was that Roxas was as stiff as a board, and the second was that Isa was larger than he was. Roxas could see his bulge through his pants before he unzipped, but now that he was free…

Nothing happened at his own nethers, prompting him to look down.

Naminé was watching him expectantly, her lips only inches from his own manhood. He could feel her breath upon it, waiting, hopeful.

“Play nice,” she reminded him.

Roxas inhaled.

And then he turned his head toward Isa, glancing up at the older man who now stared down at him with such piercing eyes. He felt himself stiffen further and his legs spread slightly apart as he opened his mouth.

Isa pushed inside of him at the same time that Naminé took him, leading free a moan that quaked through his entire body. His hips wriggled in reply to the sensation of Naminé’s lips gently pressing themselves to his member, then sliding down the length of his shaft. Isa was considerably less considerate, his cock pushing into Roxas’s cheeks without concern.

Roxas let out a muffled moan, his lips vibrating against the wolf-like man’s dick. Isa shivered in response, brought both hands down so that one was pressed to Roxas’s abdomen and the other hovered beside his head, and thrusted forward in deeper earnest. Roxas held out one hand so that it rested against Isa’s stomach, the other lurked in Naminé’s hair as she lovingly nursed his manhood, showering it in kisses and gentle licks that stoked his desire.

“When you play nice, you get rewarded,” she told him, her words barely audible over the sound of Isa pushing deeper and deeper into Roxas’s mouth. All the while, his fingers drummed over the tones in Roxas’s abdomen like they were piano keys. “Do you like this?”

Roxas moaned affirmation as her hand quickly moved up the length of his shaft, played against his head, and then fell away. What remained was a single finger, lovingly running up and down the length of his shaft. He shuddered every time it came up toward his head, and as the feeling intensified, whimpered when it drew away. He needed a deeper reward — something meaningful for what he was now doing for Isa.

Reciprocation.

Isa thrust harder and harder into his mouth as the moment wore on, his fingers curling against the flat of Roxas’s stomach. Roxas did his best to keep his mouth as wide open as possible, but his lips flat against Isa’s manhood.

Every time the other man’s dick ran over the flat of his tongue, Roxas felt satisfaction course through him. It sang like a chorus through his chest and forced his heart to beat, leading him to pant and breathe and whimper and moan as Naminé toyed with him below. He was working so hard for so little reward — surely, he deserved more, didn’t he?

Isa removed his dick from Roxas’s mouth and the younger man drew a stiff breath of gratitude. Roxas’s head lolled back onto the table, and he missed the moment where Isa rounded down toward Naminé, who waited for him there. Her mouth sank lower, her lips found his balls — and then her tongue played a symphony against them.

He writhed and bucked his hips upward toward her face at the moment that her tongue chased a long, slow stroke even further downward.

“Ah!”

Roxas gasped when Naminé’s tongue teased his entrance, but he bucked harder against her face all the same.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “It must be shocking. You aren’t used to this.”

She pressed another kiss to his shaft and then stepped aside, allowing Isa to bring both hands down beside Roxas’s hips. At once, Roxas wriggled back, propped himself up on his elbows, and glanced over to Naminé.

“Hey, wait, I’m—”

She silenced him with another kiss, this time from the side. Gently, she guided him down to the table, her lips writhing against his and stifling all objection with her warmth. Isa braced himself below, his cock still slick with Roxas’s saliva, and pushed inside with a soft grunt.

Roxas broke free of Naminé and let out a pained moan as he felt the other man’s head scrape against something sensitive inside of him. It reduced the world to a scream of color and sound, and Roxas roiled against it until Naminé grabbed his hand. He squeezed down hard as she kissed against his neck, the scent of linen overriding the call of old books and long-stale coffee that Isa brought on.

It was like the world around him was being continually melted away, replaced, and then rebuilt by the woman whose lips danced against the column of his throat and the curves of his cheeks. She kissed away the pain and the confusion, replacing it with a solemn satisfaction that took root in Roxas’s gut.

Every thrust down below brought with it a strange pleasure that he hadn’t known before.

It was exhilarating and terrifying and somehow exciting in ways he couldn’t describe. It was like Isa’s dick was scraping away all of his apprehension with every thrust, every slap of skin against skin — and the way his own cock bounded against the other man’s abdomen and his own body was…

Roxas whimpered and Naminé squeezed his hand. A tear escaped his left eye, trailed down the side of his face and splattered against the table as the sensation in him grew, burgeoned by the need for relief that permeated his entire being. His arousal was an itch, a need, a desire that transcended reason.

He shut his mouth as soon as he caught it.

Teeth gnashed together as he fought the urge to let the pleasure out, his fingers still intertwined with Naminé’s. Isa leaned forward over him, his hands still on either side of the younger Nobody’s hips, and bit down gently on the lobe of Roxas’s ear. At once, silence gave way to a gentle hiss, the escape of wind through gritted teeth that Roxas couldn’t hide no matter how hard he closed his eyes.

And then, as the pleasure mounted and Isa’s thrusts quickened, that hiss gave way to another gentle whimper.

“You’re doing well,” Naminé whispered into his other ear, lips trailing toward his forehead. “You’re doing so well. You’re playing nice.”

Roxas let another moan escape, one that echoed through the room like a klaxon. It shook his heart until the moment that a second escaped, and Isa’s thrusts grew even faster. Flesh slapped against flesh and his cock kept scraping that spot and Roxas could feel the feeling in his dick grow harder and harder to ignore —

“It’s okay,” Naminé whispered, a little breathless. “Go ahead, Roxas.”

He groaned in reply, fingers tightening around the hand he could still feel.

“Go ahead,” she managed, her voice lost against his skin. “Let it out.”

He shook his head.

“Cum, Roxas.”

Roxas exhaled sharply, whimpering harder as Isa pushed harder and harder inside of him. He was so rough, so strong — so warm, so gentle at the same time.

“Cum, Roxas,” Naminé breathed, practically whimpering herself. “Please, cum for me.”

Roxas squeezed her hand.

“Cum!”

And so he did.

Thick ropes of white shot from the tip of his manhood and splattered over his own body, spread out in thick puddles over his abdomen, and flecked his face. Roxas panted as each one landed, his cock pulsating in deep pleasure. Isa’s teeth sank down to his neck and he bit down hard, forcing free a stiff breath as his hand wandered down and found Roxas’s still wet-manhood.

He was so sensitive still and Isa didn’t seem to care.

“I was close,” Isa hissed into his skin.

The older man fucked him harder for his insolence.

“Naminé said—”

“I don’t care what she said,” Isa dismissed, his member stiffening further inside of Roxas. Roxas panted with every thrust, clenching tighter and tighter around Isa as he came to understand exactly what was happening. In the meanwhile, Naminé grew more needy at his side, her own voice devolving into a subtle, quiet moan. He couldn’t hear her words anymore, just the sentiment, the need.

And then he was gone, just like that. Roxas froze as Isa withdrew, only to understand a moment later as the other man pulled him roughly off of the table. For a moment, he didn’t — and then Isa lifted him up by the legs, threw him down on the couch across the room, and pounced anew.

Roxas braced a hand against Isa’s chest as he opened his eyes, savoring the feeling of a dick pressed firmly up against his entrance. He was still rock hard himself, his member eager in anticipation while its owner stared up into fields of green. Isa was so intimidating in that moment, both bestial and demanding. For a half-second, Roxas shrank away, his face turning toward the couch cushions as Isa pressed inside of him and wiped away the doubt.

He no longer had Naminé’s hand to guide him through, but he relished the feeling on his own. Isa’s manhood was bigger than his, it was warmer, it pierced him so delicately that he couldn’t ignore the feeling or the pleasure it brought him.

“Isa,” he moaned, of his own volition. He lost the moment that his arms looped around the other man’s neck, but he memorized the feeling of Isa’s hand against his hip bone and the way his fingers dug into Roxas’s side.

There was a creaking sound — one that Roxas hoped was the couch beneath him or the floorboards — and Roxas bit down on his lip to stifle his own moans. His stiffness hadn’t subsided, but covered in his own seed… he was grateful that no one was there to see him but Naminé, who he trusted with his life.

There came the scent of old newspaper and dried ink, cut by a familiar, if foreign undercurrent of caramel and the sea breeze. Roxas bit his lip at the thought, as if Xion were somehow there to see him and not the ghost of her that existed against the couch. One of the arms looped around Isa’s neck fell so that he could bite down against his knuckle, and he gnashed down hard to mute some of the pleasure that wracked him.

And then he heard it.

A subtle moan from across the room.

Roxas turned his head to see Naminé in the chair she sat in before. Her head was thrown back over the edge, a single breast spilling out from the fabric of her white dress. Between her legs. Her hand was covering her mouth in vain, both legs spread open with a familiar head of black hair between them. Punctuated by slim shoulders and an exclamation point dress that led Roxas’s mouth to fall open into a new moan, he knew it to be Xion.

He missed the moment of her entrance, how or when she got there. She was just there now, a part of the scenery, of the art gallery — of the jury, to witness him covered in his own seed and betrayed by the pleasure of having another man inside of him. Roxas whined and tried to cover his own mouth, maybe to pantomime the withheld girl now being pleasured by his girlfriend across the room.

Part of him wanted to trade places with her.

To be between Naminé’s full thighs, tongue working at the base of her being. To savor the taste of her, to drink of her so fully that nothing else mattered. He remembered that feeling so well, how grand it felt to please her and to wrench free the same moans that Xion was now dragging out of her. Instead, he was pinned to the couch, his legs unceremoniously around Isa’s hips, a cock deep inside of him.

Roxas inhaled sharply at the thought, his member stiff and caught between their bellies. Isa’s breathing was ragged now, dogged by the pleasure and the exertion. They were both covered in a thin sheen of sweat that he couldn’t hide. The subtle tears that were running down the side of his face before were now full blown tears of pleasure, unexpected utterances of feelings he couldn’t put words to.

He understood Naminé’s moans in that moment, as the smell of sweat and old books and caramel all mingled together with the way Isa’s fingers drummed against his clenching abdomen, before proceeding to wrap around Roxas’s stiffness.

The boy couldn’t help but let out a pleasured cry, letting out a shuddering breath followed by a whine.

Roxas understood it all in the moment that he came a second time, his exertion accompanied by a long moan from Isa, whose face buried itself against Roxas’s slim neck.

He bit down hard against the boy’s skin and came unabashedly.

Roxas felt it, warm and deep inside, filling him up from the core. His fists clenched and he lurched back, his head buried into the couch cushions. For a moment, Isa continued to thrust, savoring the boy’s warmth and the way he felt, and then he grew still.

They both breathed on, lungs hollowed out, bodies fatigued.

“You played nice,” Isa managed, voice low.

“I played nice,” Roxas repeated.

The older man pressed a kiss to his neck and exhaled softly into him.

“I’m proud of you,” he continued.

For a moment, Roxas said nothing, and so Isa went on by bringing another kiss down on the boy’s forehead. Then another to his nose, and then his mouth — the most unexpected and somehow gentle of all.

“She would be proud of you,” he explained. “If she were paying attention.”

Across the room, Naminé was still lost in the way Xion’s tongue felt against her core, her head still thrown back and her voice still muffled by her hand over her face. One of Xion’s hands was toying with her nipple, stroking its border, tracing circles around it — flicking it with the flat of her thumb.

“Naminé,” Isa barked, clambering off of the couch.

She moaned something incomprehensible.

“Here.”

Roxas watched from the couch, exhausted, as Naminé pushed Xion away and came to Isa, her eyes rimmed by tears of her own. Isa placed a hand on her head and pushed her down to her knees, where she took him immediately into her mouth. He was still stiff somehow, his manhood a rod. Xion crawled toward the couch shortly after, to tend to Roxas, who looked like death warmed over.

Before he could say anything, she took his mouth with hers. A hand roamed down toward his member, still slick with his own seed, and began to stroke it. Roxas winced at first, until her hands roamed beneath him, surfed around to the round of his ass, and cupped a single cheek in her left hand.

Then, gently, she turned him over so that his dick was flat against his belly and his belly was flat against the couch. Her fingers spread his cheeks apart and she smacked him firmly on the ass, soliciting a quiet whimper.

“You did so good,” she affirmed, kissing his right cheek.

And then her lips dragged themselves across toward his entrance, until she teased him in the exact same way that Naminé had before. Where Naminé balked away, however, Xion showed no interest in retreat. She took him on unabashedly, worshipping his lower half as if it were given to her by the gods. She breathed sharply and inhaled, relishing the way he smelled and the way he felt and the feel of his warm body against hers.

He knew she must have tasted Isa inside of him. He wasn’t sure he cared.

Gently, he arched his hips and her hand rolled around them, finding the subtly renewed stiffness of his member. He was almost spent, and he knew he couldn’t go much further. When Xion turned him over again, her gesture was accompanied by the sound of a firm smack — Isa’s hand against the curve of her ass.

Roxas frowned at that, but all dissent was once again washed away when her mouth found his member. Naminé crawled between his legs to join her hardly a moment later, her rear lifted into the air and Isa just behind her. She buried her head against the flat of Roxas’s leg while Isa pushed into her from behind, her eyes closed in either ecstasy or anticipation or some mixture of both.

He lost himself in the feeling of it all.

He lost himself in the feeling of Xion’s lips against his cock and the way she moaned, pleasured by Isa’s spare hand while he drilled into Naminé from behind. He lost himself in the insanity and the sin of it, and the feeling of wrongness that it all solicited in him.

Xion let go off his dick with a pop, her eyes glazed with lust. Roxas’s body shuddered as he leaned over to kiss Naminé, locking his lips up in hers despite his exhaustion. He needed what they’d done to be for something, to mean something.

And then it was Xion’s head laid against his thigh, her arms spread out across his legs until they spilled over to the other side of the couch. When Roxas glanced over, Isa was behind her, his hilt buried deep against her backside. He watched as the older man plowed into Xion, every thrust burying her against her perhaps-boyfriend’s lower half.

Before he knew it, her face was being shoved into his crotch, but Naminé held his member away. It was still slick with his own seed, and limp from the day’s exertion. Seeing Xion being brought to account stiffened it a little, but Naminé only paid it attention with her hand, her lips now massaging the side of Roxas’s face. The younger man let out a guttural whine and bucked his hips forward, but Naminé made sure he couldn’t touch Xion — not directly.

Her hands held his down by the wrists, her gentle touch enough to keep his exhausted body restrained. Even when his manhood was allowed to come into contact with his girlfriend’s face, he knew it wasn’t enough, not compared to what he wanted. Roxas bucked in objection, and Xion moaned against his member in response. He felt the warmth of her face against it, trapped in the flat between her cheek and her nose.

Rut after rut led him forward as Isa followed suit, thrusting deeper and deeper into Xion while he was forced to watch. She was panting and groaning, wordless despite her pleasure. Isa’s hand came down gently upon her back and pushed her down harder into Roxas, producing a frustrated whimper from the couch-ridden blond. Naminé tried to comfort him, her lips now working at the lobe of his ear.

“It’s okay, Roxas,” she whispered. “Enjoy yourself.”

“Then let me—”

She silenced him with a long, exasperated breath into his ear, one that rang like a moan in her. He replied in kind, moaning through grit teeth as Isa’s free hand came down hard on the round of Xion’s ass. She creaked like a floorboard, fingers gnarling over Roxas’s thighs and belly.

The feeling at the tip of his cock came back again.

It rose like a familiar itch, a need to be scratched. He rutted harder against Xion’s face, his member rubbing against her bare skin. Part of him didn’t want to finish — he couldn’t give in to Isa, not when Xion was the one on his other end. He didn’t mind losing Naminé.

But finishing all over her would somehow feel like losing Xion.

“Imagine how relieved you’ll feel,” Naminé mumbled into his ear. “How good it’ll feel when you’re done.”

“Naminé, I don’t want to—”

“Don’t lie,” she said.

As if he knew better than to tell her lies.

Roxas felt his legs clench hard. His toes curled just a little and he tried to fight off the feeling, painfully aware of every one of Isa’s grunts and the moans of pleasure Naminé kept rattling off through his body. He could feel the build up growing more and more stern inside of him, more assertive, insistent on relief.

It felt unbearable. It felt like his entire body was fading away, replaced only by the need to supplicate himself to desire. Roxas’s eyes slammed shut and he tore a hand away from Naminé’s grip, muffling what might’ve been a moan or a breath of relief as the tension in his body built to its peak.

And then, like a coiled spring unwound, he came unabashedly across Xion’s face. White splattered over her nose and her hair as she moaned harder, her body thrust mercilessly against his. Isa let out a low growl and Roxas watched his head tossed back over his shoulders, blue hair wild and matted by sweat.

There was no doubt what he was doing.

Xion let out a sharp breath as he slowed, her face red, her eyes brimming. Roxas’s former stiffness was still pressed up against her face, but she didn’t seem to notice. If she did, she said nothing of it.

They had fallen into their desires together, and as Roxas gathered his breath, he wasn’t sure they’d ever recover from that plunge. All the while, Naminé stroked his hair, peppering his forehead with gentle, affirming kisses and subtle coos of appreciation.

Exhausted, exasperated, lost on the couch, Roxas could only heave a sigh of either relief or regret in response to the way Isa drew out of Xion, cock still dripping, coated in the same seed that now waited inside of her.

He didn’t know which he felt.

He didn’t know which he preferred.


End file.
